


After the Battle

by tnystrk



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But She Still a Bad Bitch™, F/M, FUCK YOU D&D, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Jaime is a considerate boi, SEASON 8 SPOILERS!!!, Smut, Virgin!Brienne, Yeah I'm Doing This, da gud stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnystrk/pseuds/tnystrk
Summary: Jaime and Brienne reunite after the Battle of Winterfell, and they both know that they can no longer ignore what's unspoken between them.AKA season 8 is terrible, and this is how I'm coping.





	1. The Day After

**Author's Note:**

> This season is slowly killing me. I've never gone through such an emotional roller coaster. This was supposed to be a one-off, but I can't after ep 4... I need justice for my babies.
> 
> This is completely self indulgent, but I hope you guys enjoy too! This is my love letter to my favorite pairing of all time. ♥

 

**Jaime**

_Death,_ Jaime Lannister thought with sudden realization. _So much death..._

Ash from the disintegrated bodies of the wights surrounded them, illuminated by the sun peeking out of the fading snow storm. The air was eerily quiet compared to the deafening sounds of war they just experienced. He turned his head to the side to evaluate Brienne. Her pale face looked much darker and grim with the layer of grime on her face, and her body was heaving with exhaustion. But she was okay, and that was all that mattered.

The adrenaline from the long battle was beginning to fade, leaving dread and shock in its wake. In all of his life, he had never seen so much death. His chest shuddered, and he suddenly felt ill. He was hunched over and puking out last night’s dinner before he knew it.

“Jaime,” came a voice from behind. Brienne sounded soft and raspy. “Are you alright?”

He nodded even as he continued to heave. “Yes… yes,” he said with his hand wiping his mouth. “I-I’ve just never--”

Jaime is cut short when Podrick, silent until that moment, said just loud enough to interrupt, “We did it.” Jaime could not help but to laugh.

“Yeah, we did,” he said. “Not all of us.” He gestured to the ground covered by bones and bodies of their fallen comrades, a sight that would traumatize even the most seasoned veterans. “It wasn’t without much sacrifice…”

“They did not die in vain,” Brienne interjects. Her tone is more firm now, and her face is hard set. “We won, the _living_ won.”

No one said anything else because she was right. The army of the dead was no more, and even though many of them did not make it through the night, _they did._

After the lot of them regained their senses, they went searching for other survivors. It was such a grisly scene throughout Winterfell that Jaime wondered why the hell he, the cripple, was alive to see the aftermath. His eyes almost instinctually focused on Brienne, and he remembered: _It's all b_ _ecause of her._

 

**

 

Jaime's wounds were far extensive than he realized. Cuts, bites, and bruises littered his body. His leg had a considerable gash from some type of blade; when and where it happened, he knew not. The past hours of battle was a blur, just cold darkness, blood, and the haunting sounds of the dead. He couldn't even put into words what happened. He just fought and fought and ran and killed more than he had in his entire life. He protected Brienne when she needed it, and she did the same for him. They were a force to be reckoned with out on the battlefield, even if it was a losing fight until the end.

She was a couple of cots down from where Jaime was laid to rest. She was in no better shape than him, but she was cleaned up now, looking far more pale and drained than she ever has. She was staring off into the distance out one of the stone windows on the exterior of the Winterfell castle as a woman tended to her wounds. Jaime wondered what she was thinking about. He had never seen her so lost in thought, so unguarded and--

"So, you came out in one piece, brother?"

He was not even mad his thoughts were interrupted. The sudden sight of his unscathed brother had him practically overjoyed. The gloominess faded from his features, and luckily, he was done with his treatment because he lurched onto his feet to meet Tyrion for a tight embrace. He ignored the sharp pain in his leg as he knelt to his brother's height.

"Tyrion... I'm so happy they didn't get to you." They parted and shared grins. Jaime sat back on his cot, more eager than ever to hear his brother's voice.

"Well, they did technically get to me, but as always, I outwitted them." He winked in his usual charming way, but he went somber after a moment. "I'm more surprised at your survival, if I'm being honest. I... wasn't expecting this outcome."

Jaime smiled wryly. "Have you lost that much faith in me?"

"Of course not." Tyrion shook his head. "I was only thinking realistically. Though, I suppose I shouldn't have doubted that the Night King would fall to us and the rest of the North; we have all faced and survived the wrath of our beloved sister, after all."

Jaime pursed his lips in a grimace. "So far, at least," he said with distant disdain. "They're calling this the Great War, you know. I wonder what they'll call the war against Cersei?"

Tyrion's smile turned tight as if he had forgotten about what’s to come next. "What, indeed." He held his hands behind his back and paced the space. "... A more invigorating question at the moment is: whose side will you be on when that time comes?"

Jaime was surprised that Tyrion would ask such a question in a room full of Northern people, of all places. Everyone seemed to be too preoccupied, however, with the aftermath of the battle to really care about the two Lannisters occupying their space.

Jaime took a deep breath. "I am here. I came here knowing well enough that I would never go back to King's Landing again, at least not as a wanted man," he said.

Tyrion looked at his brother. Then, his gaze shifted to someone behind him before asking, "Is a woman all it takes for you to switch loyalties? I expect more out of you, Jaime."

 _Of course he knows,_ Jaime thought to himself. _Clever bastard._ "It takes more than that, little brother," he said with a short laugh. "At least this time."

"'At least this time,'" Tyrion repeated with a sigh.

"Yes, Tyrion. There was also the army of the dead knocking on our door that Cersei refused to do anything about, and she threatened my life. I believe that is enough for me to switch loyalties and stay where I am, for now. I do hope you trust me with that much."

Tyrion wanted to say something else -- Jaime could see it in the glint in his eye -- but he held his tongue. "... So, does this mean you will bow to Queen Daenerys?"

"I suppose it d-does." Jaime began to stutter when he noticed a tall presence approach his side. He looked up to Brienne who was wearing the same straight face she had all day since the end of the battle. Tyrion kept a keen focus on the both of them.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Brienne said as she regarded both Jaime and Tyrion. “Ser Jaime, will you find me when you are free? I will most likely be in my quarters for the rest of the day.”

Tyrion raised a brow. Jaime visibly had a moment of shock before settling into a warm smile.

“Of course, Brienne,” he said. She fidgeted before nodding.

“Until then. My lord,” she said to Tyrion with a slight bow as she made her way out of the makeshift infirmary.

The dwarf wasted no time. As soon as the door closed, he asked rhetorically, “You have it bad, don’t you?”

“I don’t…” Jaime paused; the look on Tyrion’s face was a warning. He would know if Jaime lied. “... know. I don’t know what I have, Tyrion.”

“You’ve never looked at Cersei like that before.”

“Well, she isn’t Cersei. Maybe that’s what I find so appealing about her.”

The smile that cracked on Tyrion’s face was the smuggest Jaime has ever seen. _He got a confession out of me._ “Sweet, sweet brother. There are thousands of women who aren’t Cersei, all of whom would faint at the thought of a night with the Lannister Lion himself, and this is the one your heart is set on? Why is that?”

Jaime sighed, “Like I said, _I don’t know._ I still need time to figure it all out.”

Tyrion laughed. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Jaime’s good hand. “I’m just glad to see you finally out of Cersei’s grasp. I would have hated to see you on the other side when Daenerys rode South.”

“As would I.”

“Is this what you’re choosing, Jaime?” His smaller hand felt delicate as it raised Jaime’s, and the squeeze he gave him was a desperate yet unsaid plead. “Are you with us?”

Jaime looks into Tyrion’s eyes. His dear younger brother, his best friend through childhood and beyond, the man he saved from their own father and sister numerous times. He knew Tyrion would have done the same for him of their roles were reversed; he knew that the Dragon Queen would forgive his past crimes with the word of her Hand. He had a chance to redeem himself here and to possibly lead a normal life afterwards.

Cersei wanted him dead. And she was an evil, manipulative, vindictive cunt.

There was no competition.

“Yes,” Jaime said with clear certainty. “I’m with you.”

 

**

 

After asking around for Brienne’s whereabouts, Jaime now stood in front of the door to her chambers. The hallway was silent -- everyone was either sleeping or assisting the hurt and needy -- but voices were coming from within, too low for Jaime to understand. He gave a few hard knocks.

When the door opened, he was met with a face covered with red hair. Tormund was the name, Jaime remembered. His heart sunk at the implications.

“Whaddaya want, Ser Knight?” Tormund asked gruffly. He seemed not pleased to see Jaime, and Jaime returned the sentiment.

“Brienne requested me to find her when I was free,” he said cooly. “Here I am.”

Tormund opened his mouth to retort, but Brienne’s firm voice cut through the air behind him. “Tormund. Please leave and allow Ser Jaime inside.”

Jaime’s brow quirked as he smirked with amusement. “You heard her. Move.”

Tormund sighed heavily. “Aye, alright. Don’t be tryin’ any funny business, _Ser,_ else it means war.”

“Tormund. Now.”

The wildling brushed by Jaime without another word. Jaime gladly watched him leave before entering the room and closing the door behind him. Brienne was still dressed in her casual blue outfit -- a sight that Jaime was glad to be confronted with as opposed to the alternative -- and she stood awkwardly straight in the middle of the room. Jaime looked at her and suddenly became… _nervous._ He cleared his throat.

“... Well, what was that all about?” he decided to ask, jutting his thumb towards the door and ultimately towards Tormund. “He’s been trying to ruffle your skirts for a while, hasn’t he?”

That comment had Brienne blushing, random parts of skin blooming red on her face and neck. “I suppose that’s… one way to put it,” she mumbled. Her arms crossed, and her eyes couldn’t hold contact with Jaime’s. “He was hardly in here two minutes before you stopped by. It… it was as you are assuming.”

Of course, Jaime was assuming the worst. His voice dropped an octave deep. “Did he make a move on you?”

“N-no, not like that. Just… flattery. Unwanted flattery.”

“You should tell him you’re uninterested in his advances.”

“I feel like he would have taken the hint by now.”

“Men turn into fools when their perfect woman is right in front of their eyes.”

The blush deepened. “I suppose you’re right, but I-I didn’t call you here to talk about Tormund, Jaime.”

Jaime swallowed a knot in his throat but kept his composure. “What of, then?” he asked.

“I… um. I wanted to make sure that… you’re okay,” she said shakily, and it was obvious she was avoiding something. Jaime allowed her to finish and listened intently. “Last night was… hellish. Terrifying. I’m definitely still processing it myself.”

“As am I,” Jaime replied. He sat in the only chair in the room and motioned for her to sit on her bed. She obliged. “But I’m okay. It was very scary there for a moment. I was sure that I was going to die many times, and… I thought I was going to lose you, too. Those are feelings I never wish to feel again.”

Brienne shook her head. “It’s the risk of war, and this war isn’t done. I wanted to be sure you’re still willing to move forward with us.”

Jaime looked at her inquisitively. “You know, Tyrion stopped by to basically ask me the same thing. Are you also worried that I’m going to go crawling back to Cersei now that the Night King is dealt with?”

She still didn’t look him in the face. “It’s… one of my worries.”

“Worry about it no longer. It’s out of the question. I am loyal to the Dragon Queen until Cersei is dealt with.”

“And afterwards?”

“Provided Queen Daenerys doesn’t behead me, I’m going to lead a different life, one that isn’t about what Cersei or my father wants. It’s going to be about what _I_ want.”

Brienne nodded slowly and said quietly, “I believe you are deserving of that.”

“Thank you,” Jaime said sincerely. When her eyes finally met his, his heart stopped for a moment.

“And… what is it that you want to do with your life, Jaime?” She was still so soft spoken and awkward, but there was a different type of confidence in her that Jaime had yet to experience.

He wondered a moment about how to answer. They were tiptoeing around something they both knew was there. Would he finally say it outright or would she? “I would like to settle down somewhere with no more politics so heavily imbedded in my life, though I would not be opposed to being a low level knight if Daenerys would allow it. I just… want to do what’s right for people, actually help the ones who need it instead of helping myself and my house.”

“That is not the same answer you would have given me when we first knew each other.”

Jaime chuckled, “No, it sure isn’t.”

“You’ve changed since then. A lot.”

“Yeah… I have.”

“I have, too.”

“Yeah. You’re a knight now.”

She smiled. “Thanks to you.”

“Is that what you want for _your_ life, Lady Knight?”

“Please, do not start that nickname. It will most definitely stick.”

“Fine. Answer the question.”

“Being a knight would most definitely suit my lifestyle.”

“But is it what you _want?_ ”

“If it means we could work together, then it would be more bearable.”

 _Is this it?_ Jaime thought. He swallowed hard again, his chest feeling tight. _Don’t say the wrong thing._ “I… Are you wishing to come with me, wherever I end up?”

Brienne was as red as an apple, but surprisingly, she kept her composure, even if her voice sounded a little strained. “I would prefer to stay close enough to Sansa to protect her, but…”

“But?”

“I… would also want you close.”

“So you can protect me, too?”

“Jaime… You know why.”

“Is this why you’ve been distant all day?”

“Yes.”

“Then what is it?" He motioned his hand between them. "... This?”

“... I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“Me, either.” Jaime sighed and sat forward in is chair. Brienne’s eyes started to glisten. _From tears?_ he wondered. The blues of her iris looked even more vibrant as they looked at him. “I don’t think we need words.” He leaned forward enough to place a gentle hand on her cheek and looked deep into her beautiful eyes. “May I…?”

There was no need to ask the full question. Brienne lost some of her breath, but she nodded nonetheless. Jaime, nothing else holding him back, pulled their bodies together until their lips met in the middle. Both pairs of lips were rather dry from last night, but neither of them seemed to care. They melded together as if they were meant for each other, and while Jaime used to think the same thing when he kissed Cersei, this was on a whole other level. Brienne was tentative at first, and it was obvious she had rarely kissed anyone in her entire life, if anyone at all. She mimicked what Jaime did and was a quick learner; soon, their lips were moving in their own melodious motions.

_Why didn’t I do this yesterday?_

Months of unresolved feelings and tension started to pour from Jaime. The force of him rising from his chair had it _skrrt_ away from him. He positioned himself straddling Brienne’s lap which somehow felt _so, so_ right, even with his patched leg protesting painfully. Her lips were getting softer and more compliant under him. His hand travelled from her cheek, down her sides, and to her waist where he held her close.

This seemed to trigger something in Brienne. She pushed him away enough that she can look at him. Jaime went still, his body frozen in an awkward position.

"What…" She sounded breathless. "What are you… doing?"

Jaime blinked at her. His hand was approaching her lower hip, his legs were on either side of hers, his lips were slick with her spit… Wasn't it obvious? He was flabbergasted. "Um… Do you… want me to stop?"

"I want you to tell me what your intentions are," she said, stern yet hopeful. "I'm not someone you can just sleep with."

Jaime allowed himself to relax. He caressed her over her shirt, just soothing touches to reassure her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered against her skin, "You are much more than that to me. So much more that I want to show you in the most intimate way possible."

He felt her shudder underneath him. She grasped the fabric of his shirt and laid her head against his shoulder, trembling slightly. Figuring her nerves were getting the better of her, Jaime was about to coax her more when a sudden strength was lifting him up from her lap. Before he knew it, he was dropped on his back onto the mattress, his body bouncing with the feathers. He stared up at Brienne who was staring back with her face full of color now. She had picked him up like he was nothing.

Now, his hard on was impossible to ignore.

Brienne glanced down to his trousers and then quickly back up. Keeping eye contact, she stood straight to take off her shirt. Her breasts were still wrapped and battle-ready, and her stomach had a few bandages spread along her skin.

"Jaime." Her voice snapped him out of his daze. "I need to tell you… I-I've never… done this," she said quietly.

Jaime's eyes went wide. He suspected but was still surprised. "Never ever?"

She shook her head. "I was too focused on building my strength and swordplay. Plus, I… do not appeal to the common man." he got self conscious then; her arms crossed over her bare torso.

He wished to all that's holy that he had his hand back because he wanted to touch her as much as possible in that moment. "Then, the common men are fools. They do not see you like I do." He sat up enough to delicately uncross her arms. Her stomach now open to him again, he pressed his lips against her soft skin. Her breath fluttered. Looking up at her for any sign of discomfort, he hooked a finger into the waistband of her trousers and began pulling them down. What was revealed to him were her muscular and toned thighs, and the skin was naturally smooth, such strong feminine features that Jaime found himself fawning over. He kissed down over her smallclothes to her thighs. She was very sensitive down here; light touches from his lips had her squirming and clenching at the hair atop his head.

Jaime looked up at her again and paused. She looked extravagant in this state, so disheveled from just a little foreplay. Her hair fell across her scarred face as she looked down at him; her lips, plump and red, were parted as she breathed shallowly. The muscles of her arms and abs added to her beautiful curves. Jaime was falling deeper in love with every second he sat there completely still and looked at her.

 _I'm in love with her,_ he thought with finality. It was the first time he admitted it to himself.

"Jaime, what's wro--?"

"I'm in love with you, Brienne of Tarth." It was out of his mouth as soon as he finished his thought.

Brienne's eyes went wide. Whatever tears she held back earlier had their chance now, though she wiped them away before they could drip on him. Jaime could tell she wanted to say something, but words were choked back in her throat. He stood to her level and kissed her again. She began sobbing.

"Shh, shh," Jaime cooed. He wiped away her tears with the back of his hand. "It's alright. I'm here."

"I-I'm sorry," she was able to say. "I was so afraid that last night would have been… I thought we were going to--"

"I know, my love. But we didn't. Even if we did, I would have been content with dying by your side. I would have had it no other way."

She nodded and smiled through her tears. "I just… would have regretted… if this didn't happen before we... died," she murmured. As if this somehow gave her a new surge of confidence, her fingers found their way under Jaime's shirt, exploring his skin. "You are the only man I feel this comfortable with."

“You’re not wanting to die a virgin, is that it?” he teased.

Brienne rolled her eyes and pinched his side. “Jaime, you know what I mean.”

He chuckled. “I do. I share the sentiment as well.” He removed his prosthetic hand to set on the side table and, in turn, rid his body of his own shirt. He watched as her eyes drifted over his body; she was not the timid woman he saw in the baths at Harrenhal. “Let us not think about death for the time being. We are alive and together right now.”

She smiled and sniffed one last time. “Okay,” she said.

He smiled back and leaned in to whisper into her ear, “Lay on your back for me, love.”

She did as she was told, looking very different and almost elegant as she laid there in nothing but her smallclothes. As eager as he was, Jaime wasted no time. He also rid himself of his trousers and kicked them to the side before he leaned himself between her legs. His left hand travelled her body, giving a massage to soothe her tense muscles, before they came to the cloth wraps around her breasts. He began to remove them, unraveling the cloth until more skin was open to him. They had both seen each other nude before, but this time was different. This time, Jaime’s attraction to her was nearly unbearable, and he tried to not be impatient. He caressed the soft flesh of her breasts, testing the waters of her sensitivity. She continued to watch his actions, just as unsure as he was. He passed a thumb over her nipple to gauge her reaction. She tensed and gasped a little, much to Jaime’s pleasure.

“Do you ever touch yourself?” he asked.

Despite them both being nearly naked and ready for sex, Brienne seemed very, very embarrassed by that question. “S-sometimes,” she mumbled. Jaime smirked.

He was pressing butterfly kisses to her breasts and nipples now which did nothing for Brienne’s nerves. “Tell me what you like, then,” he purred.

Jaime could feel her body temperature rise under his fingertips as she spoke. “Um… I, uh… do touch my breasts…”

“Like this?” He lightly pinched her left nipple and rolled it between his fingers.

“Y-yes,” she gasped out.

“Feels better when someone else does it, doesn’t it?”

Brienne nodded and was unable to say anything else. Jaime took that as his cue to shut up for now. He instead took her right nipple between his lips and flicked his tongue over it. Above him, Brienne let out a soft moan, the first of the day. Jaime’s cock stirred in his pants, almost painful against the rough fabric. Without departing from her breast, he pulled his pants off, and his member was now pressed against her underwear. She could feel it, he could tell, because her fingers, uncertain yet curious, were suddenly caressing up his sensitive shaft. When they wrapped around him, his groan of satisfaction caught him off guard. With her other hand, Brienne began to slide down her last piece of clothing as well, showcasing just how much she wanted him. Jaime’s heart started pounding.

 _How long have you been wanting this, you damned idiot?_ he thought to himself as his head became dizzy with lust. He gingerly bit her nipple before withdrawing. Brienne was still watching him, but as he sat up straight, she was able to look at him fully, drinking in his body through those breathtaking eyes of hers. She experimentally gave his cock a few tugs, and though she was inexperienced, any type of touch was enough for Jaime. Wanting to touch her all the same, his hand drifted into the soft, trimmed -- yes, trimmed. _She must have prepared for this._ \-- curls between her legs. She was already wet for him. His middle finger found her clit, and he stroked it until he found the spot that made her squirm the most.

“Do you touch yourself here as well?” he asked. His voice was gruffer than he expected it to be.

She nodded again, still unable to speak.

“Good. I’m going to make you feel amazing, Brienne. Do you still want this?”

Again, a nod, and there was no hesitation in it.

Still stroking her to help her ease into the foreign feeling, Jaime positioned himself against her entrance. Aware of his lack of a hand, Brienne helped him with one of her own. She was shaky as she held him. He could feel her heat radiating off of her, just beckoning him to be inside her. He pressed forward slowly, trying to keep a level head so that he doesn’t rush it and hurt her. He felt the muscles under her clit start to pulsate. She wanted it just as bad as he did, and that thought in itself made Jaime more emotional than he cared to admit.

“ _Jaime…_ ” she gasped out when his length was fully sheathed into her wet heat. He took his hand from between her legs and pinned it on the bed beside her head to keep him steady. Taking a deep breath, he began to pull out and push back in. There was hardly any resistance. She was completely open to him.

“ _Brienne_ ,” he answered her plead with one of his own. He captured her lips with his once more as his thrusts picked up pace, and he felt her powerful legs wrap around him and hold him to her. She moaned against his lips, and he was not immune to do the same. A hand began clawing his back, and he bit and sucked on her neck in return, intentionally marking her. _Let Tormund see. This woman is mine._

At that point, all walls were torn down between them, and they were lost in their love making. Cersei was vocal during sex, but Brienne was more so. Hers came out in soft whispers and murmurs; she chanted his name, pleaded, told him _yes._ All of his fantasies combined paled in comparison to a night with Brienne, _his_ Brienne.

And fuck anyone who tries to change that.

 _Fuck Cersei, fuck all of the Lannisters, fuck Daenerys if she even thinks of trying it_.

Their bodies were slick with sweat now. Jaime was nearing his peak. He pushed himself upright to a better position. Brienne looked completely different than she ever has with her eyes closed and brows knitted together in pleasure, and he desperately wanted to see that face when she came. He wouldn’t last much longer, so he continued to touch her body. Petting down her abdomen, he found her clit once more, and as soon as he added pressure, her eyes shot open in surprise. Jaime smirked down at her exhaustedly, and it only took him a couple of circles around the hypersensitive muscle before he felt her legs start quaking against his thighs and heard her start to whine.

“That’s right, Brienne,” he cooed through huffs of breath. “Almost there…”

Brienne came almost silently; only gasps and breathy groans escaped her, but her walls clenching around Jaime’s length is what set it off for him. In a near instant, his orgasm boils over, making him grunt and see white in his vision, and he didn’t have it in him to pull himself out beforehand. _I’m really bad at that, aren’t I?_  Brienne’s hooded eyes drifted open after he finished his last thrust, and Jaime fell on top of her in his tiredness. They laid there in silence for a few moments as both of them recovered and caught their breaths.

In the afterglow, Jaime felt heavenly. He never realized how much tension was built up inside of him over this, and the fact that it was all out in the open for both of them to experience together was a relief. This was the start of an entirely new adventure for the both of them.

“‘m quite sleepy,” Jaime yawned against her collarbone. Brienne let out a breathy chuckle.

“I think we should get cleaned up and dressed,” she replied, “before I get another unexpected visitor.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong for thinking that way, but I honestly don’t care who walks through that door right now.”

That elicited another laugh from her. “Jaime, please. For my sake of mind.”

“Okay, fine,” he said with lack of motivation, but he was a man of his word. He rolled off of her and allowed her to stand up and do as she wish. _She does have a great ass,_ he noted to himself.

Brienne continued to help both him and herself clean up with a complimentary wash bin in the room. They talked about nonsense for a while, both of them blissfully distracted from all of the traumatic events that had led up to this moment. From his imprisonment by Robb Stark, to their rough adventure on the wild Westerosi roads, to the whole situation with Locke, the bath in Harrenhal, and the bear pit, so on and so forth, until now. They helped defeat the army of dead together. They saved each other’s lives more times than they can remember. Their trust was in each other, not in money, not in their houses, not in a forced marriage; their love was founded on strictly respect, honesty, and shared experiences. She melded him into a better man because she was the only person to ever see that _better man_. Somehow, that seemed more intimate and exciting than any amount of riches and fame that Cersei and Tywin provided for him.

As he watched Brienne dress herself in the sunlit room, sharing coy smiles with each other, Jaime knew. At long  _fucking_ last, he felt happy, content, and freer than ever.


	2. The Celebration of Survival

**Brienne**

Jaime Lannister: Kingslayer, Ser Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, heir to Casterly Rock, the man who slept and fathered children with his sister, the most handsome bachelor in all of Westeros, and currently the only man who had confessed his love to Brienne of Tarth, the Beauty.

Even though she did not outwardly show it, Brienne was having intense inner turmoil.  Never, not once in her entire life, had she had a romantic attachment -- or human attachment in general, really -- so complicated and controversial. She wondered if anyone has had a story like hers; she wondered if the gods were punishing or rewarding her by placing Jaime in her life

She had given up on finding love long ago. Some days whenever she was alone, she was hopeful and even sometimes longing, but it was never a priority on her list of life accomplishments. Someone like her needed someone that _knew_ and _respected_ her and her lifestyle, and most men were very reluctant to do that.

And then Jaime came along.

Granted, it was not like this entire relationship was started by either of them willfully. In the beginning, Jaime was an arrogant bastard who would scoff at the sight of someone like Brienne. He was everything she hated in men and the patriarchy, and she was disgusted by the thought of intimacy with him. His mockeries made it evident that he felt the same. Then, things changed, slowly but surely. The man she despised morphed into the man she was undoubtedly in love with now.

 _I just slept with Jaime fucking Lannister._ It was still a shocking thought, given the circumstances. It crossed her mind while she was strapping on her boots and just happened to look up at the still-undressed Jaime Lannister who was now sitting on her bed with his arms straightened above his head to stretch his back, yawning. He was not as well-kept as he usually cared to keep himself, but that did not matter. Even with his hair and beard uncut and ruffled, he was still undeniably and astonishingly gorgeous.

He caught her staring and smirked at her slyly. His body moved into a new position on the bed, one with him laying on his side and elbow casually. He knew this was a good look for his lean muscled body though he put on his innocent façade.  “Are you sure you’re wanting me to get dressed, ser Brienne?” he said smoothly, his voice like honey in that sensuous tone he perfected. “You seem content enough with my current state.” Brienne turned flustered. The same unbelievable fact ran through her head. _I just slept with Jaime fucking Lannister._

 _What was it like to be a lover? What was it like to be completely and emotionally open and vulnerable with someone? What was it like to_ flirt _?_ Brienne could answer none of those questions. Her brain was completely stupefied in situations like this.

“You… Am I dreaming?” Brienne asked, her voice sounding small in her ears. It was a legitimate question, but much to her relief, Jaime seemed pleased with that response.

“Yes. I am the man of your dreams, too perfect to be real,” he said with a slight chuckle.

Without needing to look down, Brienne’s hands began expertly fastening her boots once more. It was done mainly to distract herself. “I am almost inclined to believe you, but I know with certainty that you are not perfect.”

Jaime’s face twisted into exaggerated distress. “My lady, you wound my ego! How will I ever forgive you?”

It was her turn to smile sweetly at him. “Get dressed, and then we’ll see.”

With some reluctance, Jaime followed his lady’s orders. They joked together all the while he dressed himself, despite the long night they just endured. Many men and women under her lead were dead. Though that was still a stab in the heart to think about, she knew she could not let it get her down. She had to keep her head level for what's to come. Jaime helped with that.

However, there was still something not sitting right with her. It was a subtle, insidious thought that invaded her inner musings. There was no way that she could bring it up to him now… or ever.

By the time Jaime had his trousers on and his shirt haphazardly strewn across his shoulders, there was a knock on the door. Unbothered, Jaime raised a curious brow and said, “Another admirer, perhaps?” Bothered, Brienne waved a hand at him and hissed, “ _Get dressed!_ ” He rolled his eyes and started to button up his shirt, and she straightened herself before going to answer the door.

The hinges creaked open, and Podrick was the one standing in the doorway. His lips pressed into that awkward smile of his as he looked up at her. “My lady,” he greeted.

“She’s finally a _ser_ now, dear Podrick,” Jaime called from behind Brienne whose fingers began to dig into the wood of the door. _Can’t keep his pretty mouth shut, can he?_

Podrick’s eyes widened a morsel, and he looked over Brienne’s shoulder. Undoubtedly, he caught sight of Jaime. “Oh, ser Jaime. I didn’t expect you to be here as well…” His voice trails off as his eyes flicked between the two.

Brienne smiled thinly in order to try to hide her embarrassment. There was no reason to try to excuse why Jaime was in her personal chambers. "Pay no mind to him, Pod. What is it?”

“Um… yes.” Podrick regained himself. “They are hosting a celebration in the dining hall this evening. All are invited to attend.”

For some reason, the thought of being around everyone in a party environment sounded very unpleasant. She was tired, and the entire situation with Jaime had her completely distracted. She also knew his blatant shamelessness would eventually be the death of her.

“Ah, fantastic,” Jaime said breezily. “I was just starting to get hungry.”

 _Well… here we go._ Brienne sighed and succumbed to the invitation.

Once they arrived at the dining hall, the low yet light hearted murmur of the room and the sparsely lit candles were somehow more calming than Brienne expected. People were relatively joyful and enjoying another day being alive, it seemed. Queen Daenerys, Jon Snow, and the other Stark siblings were already sitting at the head of the growing number of people.

The three sat together at the first open seats available, Brienne and Podrick on one side and Jaime across from them. Surrounding them were some Northerners who eyed their approach wearily. Brienne grew worried, but they said nothing to them for the time being. Jaime was oddly at ease with himself. His once golden hair was now a darker dirty blonde with streaks of gray, his green jovial eyes shown in the dancing candle light, and for a brief moment, Brienne speculated that he no longer looked like a Lannister.

More groups of survivors joined the gathering; it was a remarkably diverse room of people. Wildlings, the few Dothraki, Knights of the Vale, men of the Night’s Watch, Unsullied, Northerners, Southerners, Starks, Lannisters, a Baratheon, and even a Targaryen all within fifty feet of each other -- if not sitting at the same table -- and none of them were wanting to slaughter the other (at least, not outwardly). Brienne nearly felt honored to be in such a place. Goblets were beginning to be filled at the fully occupied tables once the hall was full of the populace. Some of the Wildings hollered in delight at the mention of booze which provoked a much larger crowd around them to do the same. The atmosphere changed in an instant.

“Finally, the real fun begins,” Jaime said.

“I hope it’s wine,” Podrick mused.

 _I don’t drink,_ Brienne noted to herself.

The round of drinks made it to their table. Winterfell servant girls poured wine into their respective goblets with the grace of angels. They were giggly, pretty girls and flirted with the patrons and were marvelous at their job. Podrick and Jaime immediately took gulps of wine at their first opportunity. Brienne did not touch hers at all and only looked around the room at everyone who was near. Over the rim of his cup, Jaime eyed her challengingly. The base of the goblet made a thud on the table when he set it down, prompting her attention even if it startled her a little bit. She looked at him with mild irritation. “Why are you not drinking?” he asked.

Brienne sat up straight and dignified. “I am not a fan of alcohol,” she said simply. “The bitterness nor the drunkenness is worth the effort.”

Jaime began to exude encouragement. “My dear, ‘tis a moment of celebration! Would you not at least share a toast with me?”

 _I love you, but you will not turn me into a fool._ “I’m okay, really,” she said while holding up a hand.

Jaime just looked at her for a moment, obviously thinking about something, before turning his attention to Podrick. “Would you, then?”

That made the squire lighten his spirits. “Sure, ser.”

With a grin, Jaime raised his cup again. Brienne noticed his eyes flicker to her briefly. His voice came out hard and inspirational. “... To Ser Brienne of Tarth, the most honorable, kind, strong, and determined knight there ever was in the Seven Kingdoms. Thanks to her bravery and leadership, we sit here today and drink in her honor.”

Podrick gleamed and responded with a, _Cheers!_ and they clinked their cups together before guzzling their wine. Brienne was blushing bright red, and she couldn’t hold back her wide smile.

“Thank you, Pod and ser Jaime,” she told them sincerely. She and Jaime shared knowing looks. “The two of you did a phenomenal job out there, though. I’ve taught both of you quite well, haven’t I?”

“That you have, ser Brienne. Cheers to _that!”_ Jaime then raised his goblet at her. He was not ignorant to what he was trying to accomplish, and she knew it. She was about to open her mouth to deny again when she felt something brush against her leg and then lean its weight against it. Unable to comprehend, she looked wide-eyed at Jaime who merely smirked and winked at her in return. _It must be his leg. Is he really doing this?_

There was a short pause, and Brienne’s jaw clenched. Wordlessly, she grabbed her cup and tipped it against his before taking the quickest sip of any drink in her entire life. The wine was fruitily sour, just as she expected it to be, and the face of disgust she created was against her own will. Jaime began laughing, and Podrick joined in as well. Brienne wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grumbled at them, “Very funny, boys.”

“Well, it sure looks like you’re having a jolly good time over here,” came the voice of Tyrion from behind Jaime. Upon hearing his brother, he turned around and eagerly motioned for his brother to come take the empty seat near him. Tyrion walked around the table and obliged to the best of his ability; the chair offered to him was squeezed between Jaime’s handless arm and the arm of a very boisterous woman who did not notice his existence. The balance he had on his own glass of wine was a practiced art. “My, it sure is crowded back here, isn’t it? There’s so much room at the high table. I’ve forgotten what it’s like…”

Jaime sneered in good fun. “Ah, yes. Us peasants aren’t worthy to be in the presence of the Hand of the Queen.”

His joke was rewarded with a humored hum and impish grin from Tyrion. “Don’t get me wrong -- I much prefer it down here. Though, some of you do smell.

“In all seriousness,” the younger brother continued on, “I am very glad to see the lot of you alive and well. Especially you, Podrick. The world is a better place with you in it.”

Podrick regarded him with a bow of his head and a raise of his cup. “Thank you, m’lord.”

“And you, Brienne.” The switch over was immediate. Brienne was very conscious about Jaime’s leg that had just moved against her again in a secret caress. “I want to personally thank you.”

The bewilderment was evident on her features as she asked, “What for, exactly?”

The smile that shifted on Tyrion’s face turned warm. “For protecting Jaime in ways that I cannot.”

She glanced to Jaime who looked very pleased. He was silent as he watched and sipped his wine. Her attention returned to Tyrion. “Well… he is a good man,” she said in a modest yet sincere tone. “He deserves life like anyone else… and I believe he can make a difference in the things to come.”

“I can wholeheartedly agree with that,” Tyrion replied thoughtfully.

“As can I,” Podrick added with an affirming nod.

The astonished expression Jaime wore surged a new energy inside of Brienne. She gave him a proud smile, raised her goblet, and declared, “To ser Jaime.”

_“To ser Jaime!”_

***

The night lingered on, and it was truly a good time to be had. A feast was served, everyone was in good spirits, and it was a nice reprieve before the siege of King’s Landing. There was also the fact that Brienne found herself drunk before she realized she had already drank too much. The last time she felt this way she was back home on Tarth, as far away as that seemed now. Lord Selwyn called for her from his room, poured her a pint of ale, and told her with a wistful look on his face, “... Brienne, my daughter, you are the strongest person I’ve ever known, both physically and willfully. I’m... sorry for the things I subjected to you when you were younger. But you are a fine woman now, and as a woman, you are free to have your ambitions. I cannot hold you back any longer. You have been accepted into Renly Baratheon’s army by my recommendation.” The excitement and joy she got over such news turned that moment into the proudest one of Brienne’s life. She and her father drank by the fire all night and talked about her accomplishments and mishaps during her life on Tarth. She missed it terribly.

Now was not the time to be thinking of home, however. Now was the time to figure out how to act properly while under the influence of alcohol.

Brienne was a giddy mess of a woman. The loud and rambunctious atmosphere of the celebration didn't help with that. Every quirk and jab that Tyrion and Jaime threw at each other was the funniest thing she ever heard, and the ugly drunken laughs she made were contagious.  When she laughed, everyone around her did.

Tyrion noticed her fit of giggles as they were all recovering from the hilarity of a certain quip he made about Sansa and Daenerys having a womanly feud. "By the gods, I don't think I've ever seen that woman smile as much as she has in the past two days," he exclaimed. “To think that she’s been thrusted into the middle of a bloody war!”

Brienne huffed, and slurred, voice strained from laughter, "Blame _that_ one!" She pointed a finger in Jaime's general direction. "He made me do the damn toast."

"I for sure didn't even try to convince you all the times afterwards,” Jaime stated matter-of-factly. He was right, of course. What inkling of a thought drove her to drink was beyond her inebriated consciousness.

“Ser Brienne, you may drink to your heart’s content,” Tyrion decried. “You are an extravagant woman, and I hope to see more of that beautiful smile of yours in the days to come, provided my brother does not drive you away.”

Such compliments were a lot to process for humble Brienne. Luckily, the alcohol already had her blood pressure rising. “You are too kind, Lord Tyrion,” she said meekly, almost sounding sober.

Tyrion’s eyes glimmered at Brienne as he took another sip of wine. “I think I’m going to go breathe some fresh air. Would you mind accompanying me, ser?”

Surely that wasn’t as terrified as it sounded. _Am I about to be interrogated?_ “Um… sure. Yes,” she stammered. “Maybe I need some air as well…”

Jaime looked completely nonchalant contrary to Brienne's own feelings. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, which crinkled handsomely as he gave her a playful smile. She wondered if he would try to interject somehow, but he stayed silent. If anything, he was more curious to know what happened next.

The task of slipping back into her coat was more difficult than she remembered, but she accomplished it and was following Tyrion out of the castle hallways with only a slight waver in her step if she concentrated enough on walking correctly. The air outside was as cold as she remembered. The faint smell of the dead still lingered, though it was still refreshing to be out in the open. Brienne pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders as Tyrion walked ahead. He said loud enough for her to hear, “Right this way, if you will.” He lead her through the heart of Winterfell towards the stables. A fence lined the area, and all that was inside at the moment were two pigs. This is where Tyrion stopped. He turned and sat against one of the wooden posts in the snow and dirt, and Brienne stood lumberingly in front of him and looked at him cautiously. His head arched up so he was able to look at the rising moon, and she followed suit. It was hard to believe that, around this time last night, she was anxiously awaiting her possible death in the fight against the Night King.

“When I first came to Winterfell, all those years ago,” Tyrion began without warning, “I came out here to this spot, drunk as I am now and sitting with the livestock like I should’ve been, to look at the moon nearly every night. I pondered over many things during those hours. I had existential crises -- many of them -- and I thought about the whores I fucked earlier that day and how absolutely dreary the world could be. Though, as I examined the details of the moon, I also thought about beauty. The most subjective opinion a human being will ever have is whether or not they find something beautiful. Some people find it in colorful tulips and roses and daffodils; others find it in the crimson stains of blood on the wall behind their assassinated target. Here, with the stench of manure permeating the air around me and the cold Northern air making my cock shrivel, I found beauty at the bottom of my wine glass and in the stars above me.”

Not knowing where he was going with this, Brienne looked back down at him with her brows furrowed. “What does this have to do with me, exactly?” she asked.

Tyrion, too, strayed his gaze from the moon to the woman in front of him. The look on his face was scrutinizing, and it made Brienne wary of the conversation. “I find myself very, very intrigued by you,” he answered, “and I want to see the beauty Jaime sees in you. You must be quite the woman to catch my brother’s affection. I’ve already devised a theory from what I know so far.”

Brienne’s expression went blank. “And what’s that?”

“Now, I’m not giving it away so easily. I would like to learn more about you first, see if my theory evolves.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. She was still feeling tipsy, and it was the first time in her life that she wish she had another drink with her. “On with it. What do you want to know?”

Tyrion held out his hands as if giving her permission. “ _You_ tell _me_ what I should know about the great Brienne of Tarth. Start from the beginning.”

Her lips pursed together while she thought, _Where to start…?_ "... Would you like to know something that Jaime doesn't?" she inquired.

Tyrion shrugged and rested his hands behind his head, looking up at her with an amicable grin. "Sure. Why not?"

“My father, Lord Selwyn Tarth, had a total of four children, three girls and one boy, all born by different mothers. My sisters both died when they were just babes. My brother, Galladan, whom I have little memory of, drowned when he was very young. I was nearly 6 when it happened.”

“Ah, so you are a survivor, through and through?”

“I suppose I am.”

“Jaime doesn’t know this?”

“I told him I was an only child.”

His face morphed into confusion for a moment. “Why?”

“I was smart enough to not show weakness around him.”

“Understandable.” He nodded while he spoke. "Showing Jaime weakness is a dangerous move for an outsider."

“Indeed.” Her fingers tightened against her crossed arms, the leather making a harsh noise as she did so. “He had already try to tear me down by getting into my head, but throwing insults is one thing that men love to do towards a woman like me. There would be no way that I would let him know something that would actually hurt.”

“Would you tell him now?”

“Of course.”

“Of that, I had no doubt. I could smell the longing reeking off the two of you. So full of angst! Especially Jaime, the poor romantic bastard.”

Brienne’s wide eyes blinked at him. “I was not--”

“My lady, do you really wish to lie to me?” Tyrion raised a brow and pointed directly at the side of her neck where Jaime had left a mark.

The pigs both oinked and slobbered on some of their slop. Brienne hung her head and gingerly touched her neck. She had forgotten that it was there, but testing a press against the spot confirmed it was bruised. Even with the other bruises on her body, she knew Tyrion was smart enough to put two-and-two together with that one. “... No, I do not.”

“Good. But I digress. Please, continue about yourself.”

Thus, Brienne was impelled to tell her life story to Tyrion Lannister. She was skeptical if he was honest in his fascination with her, but he proved to be a great listener as she told him about her three formerly betrothed and how her early life was filled with tragedy. “What of your mother?” Tyrion had interrupted at one point. “You’ve yet to mention her.” “Dead before I could hold memories,” she had answered. She discussed how she came to terms with her unlucky circumstances. If it weren’t the constant belittlement she received her entire life, she wouldn’t have strived so far to become a knight. If it weren’t for men degrading her for her looks, she wouldn’t have trained to best them in strength and cunning. Even though it was all extremely stressful, the life she lived so far was rewarding enough. Her pride lied in her accomplishments and not her femininity or appearance.

“We have quite a bit in common,” Tyrion speculated. “Late mothers, unsightly faces, denigrated all of our lives for things we cannot control. Yet we rose above them and made our own destinies, didn’t we? Look at us: a powerful mind and an undefeated swordsman.” His hands gestured to each of them respectively. “We’d make an excellent duo.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but unless Sansa instructs me otherwise, I do not expect us to be travelling together any time soon.”

"Have you not given thought as to what you'll do after Daenerys takes the Iron Throne?"

Brienne looked unimpressed. "You seem so sure of that even after we just burned the bodies of a considerable portion of her army."

Tyrion's face fell. He stood from the dirt to brush dust off of his skirts. “It’s still a lot to process,” he said simply.

“If I live through this as I have lived through my life, then I will continue to do what I’ve always done. Why change something that isn’t failing?”

With his hands held behind his back, he stared off towards the main gate and rocked gently on his feet. “Because the other option is more benefitting?”

“I don’t know what my other options are. You’re being quite vague.”

“A position on the Queensguard?”

Brienne felt her heart palpitating as she gawked at him. “I-I… That’s very… I'd be honored...” She took a deep breath to recenter herself. “That has been a lifelong dream of mine, being among the Queensguard. Nothing would make me a happier and prouder woman. But… I do not know your Queen, Lord Tyrion. I do not know if I wish to pledge my sword to a woman like her."

Tyrion held his hands up in conversational surrender. "Alright, ser. No need to explain further. I understand your hesitation. However, I do think you'll be a good candidate, and--"

He was interrupted by the sudden and thundering sound of a door being slammed open from behind Brienne. Even she jumped around, startled, to face the commotion. Jon Snow, laughing drunkenly all the while, was being pushed out the door by a group of wildlings. They all hollered at him as they began to tussle, chanting, _“Dragon king! Dragon king!”_ Brienne turned her head to the left to look at Tyrion with an annoyed disposition.

But annoyance quickly turned into dismaying. Within the crowd of rowdy men, someone shouted, “Oi! There you are, miss knight!” A glance out of the corner of her eye confirmed her worst fears: it was Tormund looking as mad as he always had with the added effect of alcohol. He was approaching her with the gait of a disoriented elk. Beside her, Tyrion said lowly so only she could hear, “You better let him down nicely, Brienne…”

Brienne squared her shoulders and hardened the features on her face. Tormund paid no mind to her obviously off-putting posture. “Why are you out here on your lonesome?” he asked while looking up at her with the joy of a boy getting his first pony. “Feelin’ down?”

Tyrion cleared his throat. “She was keeping me company, actually,” he interposed. Brienne tried not to smile.

Tormund looked down at him and cocked his head to the side. “Ain’t she a li’l too big for you, small man? I didn’t even see you there!” He started to laugh at his own joke. The other two just looked at him distastefully.

“Tormund.” Brienne promptly got his attention back. _I’ve never had to reject someone before…_ She swallowed hard and looked him in the eye before resuming. “I appreciate your… interest in me, but my heart and body belong to another. Please understand.”

His once amused expression fell into something between shocked and heartbroken. “... Who?” Tormund sounded oddly serious and afraid. He pointed to Tyrion without even looking. “Him?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous. It’s actually none of your business.”

“It’s that knight fellow, innit? A weak pretty boy like him got nothin’ on me.”

Brienne gave an exasperated sigh. The man was very loud and giving her a headache. “Jaime is _not--_ ”

“I’ll fight ‘im. Whoever it is, I’ll leave ‘im bloody.”

The next few seconds happened in an instantaneous blur. From behind Tormund’s red hair, Brienne caught sight of a figure walking briskly and with purpose towards them. A glint of gold was her first hint, and looking into green eyes was her second. Jaime did not look pleased.

 _I should step back,_ she told herself, and she did.

Tormund took notice that she had become distracted, and just as he was turning, Jaime became right within punching distance. His left fist, though not his dominant, squared the wildling right on the jaw. The unexpected attack had Tormund groaning in pain and falling into the snow right in front of Brienne and Tyrion who were gaping at at scene together. Jaime spat on the ground near Tormund’s head.

“Are you deaf, man!?” he hissed. “The lady has no interest in bedding you. Leave her be.”

Tormund wiped his mouth. Blood came off from a lesion on his inner lip. "You got more bite than I imagined," he said, winded from the suddenness of the punch. The smile he gave Jaime showcased more blood coating his teeth. "So, she _is_ your woman?"

"It doesn't matter whose she is. Take the hint and back off. I've saved her from rapists, a bear twice the size of you, and even the goddamn _army of the dead._ Don't make me add to that list."

"Tch." Tormund spat out some blood. "I'm not afraid of you, golden boy."

"That was your first mistake, and you nearly lost a tooth because of it."

Tormund was getting more irritated by the second. Brienne had to stop it. "By the gods, stop acting like children, both of you! I'm a full grown woman, not a prized goat!" She stepped in the middle of them facing Jaime, and she gave him a shove backwards. Wide green eyes found hers, bewildered. Her next words were just for him. "Why did you even come out here? Just for that?"

Jaime looked a little crazed which worried Brienne. _Is this possessiveness normal for him?_ But as he calmed down and took a breather, he visibly relaxed enough to answer her. "... I saw the lot of them coming this way and knew you were also out here. I just… had to make sure, and then I heard what he was saying…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

By the time Jaime was done explaining himself, Tormund had been picked up by his friends and taken back to where he came from, struggling and yelling as it happened. Brienne paid no mind. "I will not tolerate such behavior. I can hold my own; you know this, Jaime."

Jaime's eyes looked almost sad, and his mouth moved as if he wanted to say something but decided against it. Finally, words were said but not by him.

"Jaime goes to great lengths to help and protect the people he cares about, sometimes to the point where he acts irrationally." Both Jaime and Brienne turned their attention to Tyrion who had placed himself beside them silently at one point. "It's an admirable quality, even if it gets him into trouble at times. Don't be too harsh on him."

Brienne's eyes flicked back immediately to Jaime who shrugged as if saying, _I guess he's right_. She sighed, "Alright, but I am serious. There's no need for you to come to my rescue unless I am in serious peril. Understood?"

Jaime bowed his head at her. "Of course, ser."

"Weeeell…" Tyrion drawled beside them, "I think it's time for me to go back inside and make sure no one is harassing the queen. Brienne, find me later so we can continue our conversation, would you?"

She nodded. "I will."

Tyrion regarded both of them with a nod, and he pat Jaime's back as he walked back towards the castle. Jon Snow and the hoard of Wildlings were off somewhere else; their shouts echoed from an unknown location. Brienne did not know if she should speak up first.

"... This is going to take some getting used to," Jaime finally mumbled, breaking the silence. "You are… different than… _her._ I'm sorry if my actions upset you."

Brienne gazed at him with sympathy. Gingerly, she placed a hand on his cheek, her fingers threaded through his beard, and caressed his skin with her thumb. "It's okay, Jaime," she reassured. "Let's go back inside."

They did just that, walking side-by-side back into the dining hall, and they enjoyed the rest of the night mingling with others until they retired back to the same bed once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look y'all... season 8 is a mess. this fic is a mess, but I'm going to at least give brienne and jaime the justice they deserve. I hope yall enjoy and stick with me!!! I have some juicy angst planned!!!
> 
> also I suck at editing my own work fjdkzkdnjsjsnf pls lemme know if I need to change something lmao

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so, so much, George R.R. Martin and all of the writers of the HBO show!! I am in love with all of the characters that you brought to life (but these two specifically).
> 
> I may add another part provided next week's episode doesn't kill me somehow.
> 
> Songs that got me through this fic:  
> "Fire of Love" by Jesse Jo Stark  
> "Drive Away" by the Brummies  
> "I'm in Love" by Junglepussy (it's relevant.)  
> All of Magdalena Bay's discography


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